


@periwinklekitten

by motherconfessor



Category: The Flight Attendant (TV)
Genre: Exhibitionism, F/F, OnlyFans, Sex Work, Social Media
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 05:13:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29308593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/motherconfessor/pseuds/motherconfessor
Summary: If you wanted to blame someone, it would be Kayla. She’d said it as a joke initially: “There’s always OnlyFans!”
Relationships: Miranda Croft/You
Comments: 13
Kudos: 67





	@periwinklekitten

**Author's Note:**

> Same warning for Principle Decisions here:
> 
> 1) this is an unethical relationship between a Client/Provider where boundaries are crossed  
> 2) it is pure fantasy, please suspend your disbelief  
> 3) I just wanted to write porn
> 
> Please note, I am bending the rules of reality and there's stuff here that OnlyFans does do, and doesn't do for plot and logistics. 
> 
> A lot of this will involve exhibitionist kink, amongst some other stuff. All of it will be consensual but I'll update the tags as they come into chapters. I don't want anyone clicking this fic, seeing their tag and going "hey, it's not even here yet!"

If you wanted to blame someone, it would be Kayla. She’d said it as a joke initially: “There’s always OnlyFans!”

It’d been like planting a seed, and with every rejection, every “Sorry, you’re just not what we’re looking for right now,” that seed began to grow, rooting its idea in your mind. You _could_ go back to debt collection. It was safe, there was always work, but _that_ had been soul-draining.

You’d always had a healthy approach to sex, no stranger to porn or erotica, but this was different. This would be _you_ , your face, and your body––and yet…there was more control than, say, other forms of sex work. You’d be safer too. So you’d watched a few videos, got to see who was out there on OnlyFans, what they did and what they looked like, and then you got to work.

It was different from what you expected. Sure there were the usual types you’d expect. The same white, symmetrically faced, tiny-waisted women (and full respect to them! But…they were _precisely_ the type of women you expected to gain a big following on OnlyFans because that’s what _you_ understood was the so-called ideal woman).

But there were others. And not just diverse ethnicities, but there were plus-sized women too, with cellulite and stretch marks on show. There were _alternative_ women with piercings and tattoos and shaved heads. There were legitimate gamer girls, women in cosplay—dominatrixes and submissive. There were men, trans and non-binary workers too, and they all had their own unique followings.

There was one thing the top earners had in common, though, and that was that they seemed to elements of authenticity to themselves. Or, perhaps, _passion_ in who they were. It bled through their photos and their social media, a seed of genuine human nature, reaching out to be shared.

So who were you was the question. Were you the retro camgirl? The cosplayer? The fetish girl? Or, perhaps, none of that and something else?

In your tiny apartment, shared with Kayla, you had a bedroom with fairy lights and a floor covered in clothes.

Right now, you were the slob. A slob with a fat tabby cat who’d made her home on a pile of clean washing you hadn’t had a chance to put away yet.

But perhaps that was the beginning. First step: clean your room to see what you could work with.

-

“I’m going to do it,” you told Kayla over dinner as you put a sitcom re-run on. “I’m going to open-up an OnlyFans.”

“No shit. Really?”

You nodded, looking at her shyly. A part of you expected some judgement, but Kayla just took another forkful of noodles and nodded. “Go for it. Need help filling in the W-9?”

You shook your head. You’d done that. Everything was set-up in regards to the account, including provided details to confirm your age and bank details. You’d even opened up a new Instagram and Twitter account to reach to the broader market, and then, realising where a lot of the others were too…reluctantly opened up a TikTok account under the same username: @periwinklekitten.

You even took the time to set-up the profiles with matching icons, headers and bios on each, linking each of the other accounts on a link tree.

You’d followed a bunch of similar people, liked a bunch of stuff so you’d look less like a bot and then when that was all done, you finally cleaned up your bedroom. Only to realise that even done-up, the room…wasn’t all that sexy to lounge across and pose in.

It was narrow and tiny, and your bedsheets were all mismatched.

Same went for the couch you were currently sitting on (an ugly, green and red plaid thing you and Kayla were given for free one when the neighbours moved out––saved them having to take it downstairs).

The kitchen wasn’t much better with peeling floors and chipped counters (it was a shitty apartment, but hey, it was cheap compared to everywhere else, and the location was close to where you both needed it to be).

It was due to this, however, that decided that morning what type of girl you were going to be, anyway.

An exhibitionist.

“Need me to set-up account, so you at least have one follower?” Kayla asked.

“Should be fine,” you assured. “I’m sure someone will follow soon.”

You’d had a big day anyway. It was time to rest, begin the actual work tomorrow.

-

You took your first thirst trap in the bathroom. You had a bunch of those large towels (or ‘bath sheets’ as Kayla liked to inform you any time you said _towel_ ) and took a candid photo in the mirror pre and post-shower––all of the naughty bits hidden nicely behind the purple towel for social media, (with a few ones unhidden for Twitter).

You did a video for TikTok, under the guise you were showing off how much of your hair was _just_ volume. 

You’d even bought one of those free editing apps for your phone, and did a few YouTube tutorials to learn how to edit video and photos without it looking like the only thing you did was throw a filter onto it.

Overall, you were pretty satisfied with how it turned out––the photos, especially, were quite flattering once you managed to shift the green levels.

You did a version for Instagram (it got reported and taken down within a few days), one for Twitter (which cropped it to even more as a thirst trap and actually got a fair amount of retweets) and then you put up all version of it on OnlyFans, with the actual nude topless behind a paywall.

By the following day, you had two subscribers to OnlyFans. One left after a few hours, but hey, you got the money.

The first proper exhibitionist photo you did was on the roof of the apartment building. You got a shitty tripod for your phone from some dollar store and then strung up a bunch of fairy lights, so it wasn’t as dingy-looking as it was.

It was three in the morning, and the entire time you took the photos, your heartbeat thudded in your throat, terrified that someone would come up for a smoke and see you.

It didn’t stop you from taking the photos, however. If anything…it added a bit of thrill to it.

Your Instagram crop was just you standing in your bra and undies (a plain, matching set), looking out over the cityscape. Twitter was racier, you took that nude, but you had your back to the camera, face looking back as if you were grinning at the viewer to come and share the view with you. (Your ass looked great, though! Took a few attempts, but the few photos that worked surprised you after some tweaking of lighting).

And then the last set was for the paywall of OnlyFans, front-facing the camera, naked as you leant back at the brick railing.

Midway through your self-timer, the wind blew during the photoshoot, and half the photos had you pulling goofy faces (rendering those photos ridiculous), but one caught you by surprise. You were laughing––honestly joyful.

You put that one up. You also cropped just your face as your new icon. It was cute. More… _you._

-

At the end of the week, your Instagram had 20 new followers, TikTok had 7, twitter had 48, and OnlyFans had 6 subscribers.

Not bad.

-

You received your first DM that morning.

> @KatherineO_Brien:
> 
> Cute cat. Did you know it was there or did you forget to edit it out of the photo?

You looked back at your photos and then felt your heart sink as you realised that there, in the very first photo you’d put up behind the paywall, your cat was sticking his head in the bathroom–– looking at you like he was offended that the attention wasn’t being paid to him.

You could have died of embarrassment.

You thought about playing it cool, making some joke about how you liked to give a sense of authenticity, but ugh, that would have annoyed you.

Instead, you got creative and wrote back.

> @periwinklekitten:
> 
> I’m embarrassed to admit that I didn’t know that he was there, thank you for pointing that out. And thank you for saying he’s cute, I think so too.

You attached a photo of you and your cat's faces next to each other, staring at the camera lens.

It wasn’t a nude photo. It wasn’t risqué by any means, and you’d be hesitant to call it a thirst trap (not to say it wasn’t). But…it felt more personal than the others you posted. And you didn’t put it up on any other social media accounts.

The next morning, you woke up to find her response.

> @KatherineO_Brien:
> 
> Cute photo. What else have you got, kitten?

**Author's Note:**

> Katherin O'Brien is the pseud that Miranda gives Cassie for the hotel key in the last episode.


End file.
